Monday Side-Session: A Pair of Panoramas

Following yesterday’s Duke Ellington classic In a Mellotone, we stay right in 1940 for a Victor 78 that carries two of Duke’s most vivid little city‑scenes. Both sides deserve their moment in the spotlight.

Side A: Sepia Panorama

Billy Strayhorn shaped the evocative arrangement with Duke, and the band paints in alternating strokes: Juan Tizol’s velvet valve‑trombone, Harry Carney’s deep‑toned baritone, Cootie Williams’ growl trumpet and Ben Webster’s unmistakable warm tenor. Underneath it all, Jimmie Blanton threads those typically brilliant bass passages—little bursts of invention that seem to tilt the whole piece forward.

Side B: Harlem Air‑Shaft

Barney Bigard slips in a couple of gracefully gliding clarinet spots, and Tricky Sam Nanton brings his signature plunger trombone murmur. Cootie switches to open trumpet here—no mute, just that bright, ringing tone for his main solo, but he sneaks a little muted trumpet bit in between Barney's solos.

Duke once explained the title: an air shaft in a Harlem apartment building was like a neighborhood radio—carrying the sounds of people cooking, arguing, singing, laughing. Everyday life drifting upward in fragments.

Two Vignettes of 1940 Harlem

Taken together, Sepia Panorama and Harlem Air‑Shaft feel like companion pieces—two quick, vivid sketches of Harlem life in 1940. Duke’s orchestra wasn’t just playing dance music; they were capturing the atmosphere of a place, a moment, a community — all filtered through one of the most inventive orchestras ever assembled. They matter because they’re not just performances; they’re portraits.

Sundays with Duke #30: No Lament At All

We remain in 1940 with Duke Ellington as we come across another true classic — Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.

It’s so well‑known by that title, and there have been so many vocal versions, that it’s easy to forget the tune began life as an instrumental under a different name. But aficionados know the band first recorded and released it as Never No Lament.

Let’s spin that 1940 Victor recording:

That’s one of those sides where everything locks in: the catchy tune, the tight ensemble work, and the brilliant solos by Johnny Hodges on alto, Cootie Williams on trumpet, and Lawrence Brown on trombone.

This was one of the earliest Ellington records I ever bumped into — it showed up on a couple of various‑artists compilations — and it went a long way toward making me realize just how great a band this was.

🖋️ A New Name, A New Life

As with Concerto for Cootie, after the original release, Bob Russell added lyrics and the title was changed to the familiar Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.

Unlike Concerto for Cootie / Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me, the original title Never No Lament faded into the mist. I get it — I can’t “un‑hear” the lyrics anymore, even when listening to an instrumental version.

Victor reissued Duke’s 1940 recording under the new title during the recording ban, and just like the Do Nothin’ reissue, it became a huge hit.

🎤 Hibbler Sings It

Despite the popularity of the vocal version, Duke seldom performed it with a singer, though the instrumental stayed in heavy rotation from then on.

He did record a studio vocal version for Columbia with Al Hibbler in 1947:

Al leans way more into his vocal eccentricities here than he did on Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me (recorded during the same timeframe), and he can’t quite get the words straight!

🎺The Ellington Alumni Parade Begins

From here, we’ve got a parade of Ellington‑adjacent versions. If you’ve been following along, you’ll know the artists by their first names: Ben, Rex, Ella, Cat, Cootie, Johnny and Louis!

🎷Ben's Velvet Tenor (1954)

Ben Webster lends his tenor to the tune on his 1954 Norgran album The Consummate Artistry of Ben Webster:

A lofty album title — but they’re not wrong!

🎺 Rex Rolls In (1955)

Next up, Rex Stewart with his 1955 take for Elite:

Great to hear Lawrence Brown alongside Rex.

🎙️ Ella Reimagines the Lyric (1957)

Ella Fitzgerald returns with this cut from her 1957 Duke Ellington Songbook album on Verve:

Ella takes even more liberties with the lyrics than Al Hibbler!

🎺 Cat Hits the Stratosphere (1959)

We move to 1959 for Cat Anderson’s version from his wonderfully titled Mercury album Cat on a Hot Tin Horn:

Those high notes — pure Cat!

🎺 Cootie Circles Back (1960)

Cootie Williams, the trumpet star from the original 1940 recording, returns with another track from his 1960 Warwick album Do Nothing Till You Hear from Cootie:

It’s fascinating to compare the styles of Cootie, Cat, and Rex.

🎷 Johnny Brings It Home (1962)

Johnny Hodges brings his alto back to the tune for his 1962 Verve album Johnny Hodges with Billy Strayhorn and the Orchestra:

Awkward title — great record. In addition to Billy Strayhorn, Cat, Lawrence and Harry Carney are among the Ellingtonians on the album!

🎺 Duke & Satchmo Share the Spotlight (1963)

Duke himself returns as he joins Louis Armstrong and his All‑Stars on their Roulette album The Great Reunion:

Trummy Young on trombone and old pal Barney Bigard on clarinet give great support to Satch (who sings the lyrics pretty straight) and Duke.

The track was actually recorded in 1961 during the sessions for Duke and Louis’ earlier album — they cut so many sides that there was enough for another release a couple of years later. So, not exactly a reunion!

🎶 A Snappy Reprise (1965)

Finally, Duke and the band deliver this crisp instrumental take from the 1965 Reprise album Will Big Bands Ever Return?:

It was recorded in late 1962, with Johnny, Cootie, and Lawrence all back in the fold — so at least that band returned.

📀 A Tune with a Thousand Lives

These recordings barely scratch the surface of the zillions of versions of Don’t Get Around Much Anymore, but what a scratch we scratched!

Monday Side‑Session: Doin’ Somethin’

Yesterday I mentioned that Duke Ellington’s great 1940 showcase for Cootie Williams, Concerto for Cootie, took on a second life a couple of years later when Bob Russell added lyrics and turned it into the pop song Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me.

So today, we’ll take a little tour through some notable versions of that tune.

🎙️ Ban‑Era Birth of a Ballad

The American Federation of Musicians recording ban was still in effect when the song appeared, so Duke couldn’t record it right away. But the band began performing it in 1943, as we hear on this aircheck featuring vocalist Al Hibbler:

The melody is the same, of course, but the new arrangement — with Lawrence Brown’s trombone and Al’s vocal — makes it feel like a different song entirely from Concerto for Cootie, if you follow me.

📻 Reissues, Renamings & Rising Fame

Duke must have liked the lyrics, because the band kept the song in rotation on broadcasts and personal appearances, even though Victor was late settling with the musicians’ union and couldn’t record it. Meanwhile, as the song gained popularity, Victor reissued the original 1940 Concerto for Cootie under the new Do Nothin’ Till You Hear from Me title — and it became a big hit.

Meanwhile, Decca and Capitol both settled with the AFM in the fall of 1943, and each label jumped on the song and released popular versions.

💿 Decca Dives In

Decca handed the tune to Woody Herman, who delivered it with his own vocal:

The song really suits Woody — relaxed, confident, and right in his wheelhouse.

📀 Capitol Comes Calling

Capitol gave the song to Stan Kenton, featuring Red Dorris on the vocal:

This was from Stan’s very first Capitol session, but the band already had its own unmistakable sound.

Red also played tenor sax, so he fits that classic side character mold of the sax player with a fun nickname who steps up for the occasional vocal.

🎼 Columbia Comes Through at Last

By the time Victor finally settled with the federation in late 1944, the song wasn’t quite as fresh, so Duke didn’t record it for the label. Fortunately for us, he did cut a studio version with Al Hibbler for Columbia in 1947:

You can hear that Al is leaning a bit more into his idiosyncrasies than he did in 1943, though not as much as he would during his later solo career. He was a unique vocalist, to be sure!

🌟 Ella Elevates, Webster Warms

Let’s jump ahead to 1957 for Ella Fitzgerald’s epic seven‑and‑a‑half‑minute version from her Verve album Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Duke Ellington Songbook, Volume One:

Ella sings it as though it were written just for her, and Ben Webster’s tenor is as magnificent as ever.

As a bonus, here's Ella performing the song with Duke on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1965:

So wonderful to see!

🎺 Satchmo Stamps His Signature

Louis Armstrong joins Duke for this track from their 1961 Roulette album Recording Together for the First Time:

It’s great to hear Satch put his own stamp on the song.

🎚️ Brown’s Bold, Brassy Back‑to‑Backs

For an Ellington‑adjacent version, Lawrence Brown returns to the tune for an instrumental take on his 1965 Impulse! album Inspired Abandon:

Sounds great — warm, confident, and unmistakably Lawrence.

And he’s back with Duke again for this instrumental version from the 1966 RCA Victor album The Popular Duke Ellington:

A totally different vibe, but both cuts show just how masterful Lawrence Brown was on the trombone.

🎺 Cootie Comes Back

We sneak back to 1960 to (sort of) come full circle as Cootie Williams returns with this cut from his awesomely title Warwick album Do Nothing Till You Hear from Cootie:

I included this one today and not yesterday, as it plays more as Do Nothin' Till You Hear from Me rather than as Concerto for Cootie, if that makes any sense!

🎵 A Melody’s Many Lives

A great ride through both versions of Duke’s melody — the instrumental original and the lyrical reinvention that took on a life of its own.

Sundays with Duke #29: Cootie’s Big Moment

As we step into the 1940s, Duke Ellington and His Famous Orchestra is firing on all cylinders!

Billy Strayhorn had joined the fold in 1939, bringing his brilliant compositional mind; Jimmy Blanton was redefining what the bass could be; and in early 1940, the great tenor saxophonist Ben Webster arrived to complete one of the most storied editions of the band. Duke had also split from Irving Mills and begun a new chapter with Victor Records.

A Trumpet Triumph

We open this run of classics with a showcase for a star who had already been lighting up the band for years — Cootie Williams — in the immortal Concerto for Cootie.

Here’s the Victor recording from March 1940:

What a spectacular spotlight for one of the true trumpet giants.

The Ellington orchestra kept the piece in its book for radio broadcasts and personal appearances, even after Cootie left the band, though they didn’t return to it in the studio for quite some time.

Ray Rises to the Occasion

For example, here’s Ray Nance taking the lead on a 1944 broadcast excerpt:

Ray, of course, stepped into Cootie’s chair — and this shows just how capably he carried the mantle.

Title Trouble

The melody soon took on a second life when Bob Russell added lyrics and it became the popular song Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me. To my ears, though, that’s a separate tune; the original remains Concerto for Cootie!

Things get interesting with this 1945 aircheck of Cootie performing essentially the original arrangement with his own band — but it’s announced as Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me:

Whatever the title, the music still hits!

Cootie's "New" Take

Cootie later revisited the piece for his 1958 RCA Victor album Cootie Williams in Stereo:

I often see this listed as New Concerto for Cootie, though the label itself doesn’t include the “new.” And now the composer credit has shifted to Cootie rather than Duke — another twist in the tune’s long life.

Cat Comes Calling

And just for fun, here’s a fascinating contrast: a 1958 French recording by former Ellington trumpeter Cat Anderson:

A completely different energy — and a joy to hear.

We’ll dig a bit more into the Do Nothin’ ’Til You Hear from Me variation tomorrow. But for sheer impact, it’s hard to top the original.

Monday Side-Session: The Sidemen Shine in '39

Following yesterday’s look at Something to Live For, which introduced us to composer/arranger/pianist Billy Strayhorn and vocalist Jean Eldridge, today’s side-session keeps both of them in the spotlight. We’re dipping into a handful of 1939 small‑unit sides recorded for the Vocalion label — little pockets of Ellingtonia where the sidemen stretch out and the textures get wonderfully intimate.

Johnny & Jean

We start with a Johnny Hodges–led date from February, featuring Jean on vocal. Here’s Like a Ship in the Night:

Flip the disc and you get the instrumental Swingin’ on the Campus:

Jean returns for Mississippi Dream Boat:

And here’s that record’s instrumental flipside, Dooji Wooji:

You can really hear Ivie Anderson’s influence in Jean's phrasing, which makes sense given that her main role was as a relief vocalist when Ivie’s asthma kept her off the bandstand.

It’s nice that Jean got a couple of studio moments with members of the band; she’s a small but distinctive part of the Ellington story, and these sides give her a little corner of the warehouse shelf.

Billy Sits In

The next few numbers feature Billy Strayhorn sitting in on piano and contributing arrangements — early glimpses of the voice that would soon become inseparable from Duke’s.

From June, here’s the Cootie Williams–led “Blues A Poppin’”:

Billy’s piano solo is a gem, and Cootie on trumpet with Johnny on alto is always a guaranteed good time.

Cootie and Billy return for September’s Johnny Hodges–led The Rabbit’s Jump:

“The Rabbit” was one of Johnny’s nicknames — and yes, he could jump!

Next up is October’s Tired Socks, also from the Hodges unit:

I’ve always wondered about that title. Is it just a bit of whimsical nonsense, or was someone in the band making a sly comment about life on the road?

November: A New Sound Arrives

We hit November as Barney Bigard leads his unit — with Strayhorn at the piano — on Minuet in Blues:

It’s a lovely showcase for Barney’s clarinet, with Rex Stewart adding his unmistakable cornet color.

And here’s the historical kicker: Duke’s new bassist, Jimmy Blanton, had joined the band by this point and plays on this side. Duke recognized immediately that Blanton was something extraordinary, and at the same session he recorded a pair of duets with him for Columbia.

Here’s the simply titled Blues:

And the flipside, Plucked Again:

With Billy Strayhorn and Jimmy Blanton arriving in 1939 — and Ben Webster soon to join in January 1940 — the Ellington orchestra was on the brink of one of its most astonishing periods. You can feel the ground shifting under these small‑group sides.

Warehouse Whispers

Back-room bulletin from the label files

1939 wasn’t just a musical turning point — it was a business one. Duke severed his long-running relationship with Irving Mills that year, reshaping the machinery behind the band just as the music itself was evolving. A pivotal year on every front!

Monday Side-Session: A Date with Johnny

Since we heard a couple of sides yesterday featuring Johnny Hodges leading a small group of Ellingtonians, I thought it’d be fun to make today’s Monday Side‑Session a literal session — the four titles recorded at a Johnny Hodges date.

This particular outing took place on May 14, 1937, in New York City. In addition to Johnny on alto, the lineup is a dreamlike slice of the Ellington reed world: Barney Bigard (clarinet and tenor), Otto Hardwick (alto), and Harry Carney (baritone). Cootie Williams and his trumpet are all alone in the brass section and the rhythm section is pure Ellington: Duke at the piano, Fred Guy on guitar, Hayes Alvis on bass, and Sonny Greer on drums.

There’s also a surprise guest — a young Buddy Clark, not yet a star and not even credited on the label. No idea how he wandered into this date, but he fits like he was born in the bandroom.

The group recorded four songs (with multiple takes), and Buddy sings on the first three.

Let’s start spinning...

Foolin’ Myself

A lovely, slow, unhurried groove — the kind of tempo where Hodges can stretch out and the reeds breathe in unison.

A Sailboat in the Moonlight

This really shouldn’t work — a Guy Lombardo hit reframed by Ellingtonians — but it’s awesome! No surprise it became the most popular side from the session.

You’ll Never Go to Heaven (If You Break My Heart)

A neat structural twist here: Buddy starts right away, vocalizing over the introduction, and then disappears entirely after the vocal chorus. Most 1937 band records don’t front‑load the vocal like that, so this one stands out.

Peckin’

Buddy sits out, but we get a vocal from Cootie Williams and the band. The feel is a little odd — almost like the floor tilts under the beat — and the track wasn’t issued until the late 1960s. Strange, but intriguing.

We had heard Ozzie Nelson's version of Peckin' back here and I stand by my statement that the Ben Pollack/Harry James tune works better as an instrumental!

Release Shuffle

Foolin’ Myself and You’ll Never Go to Heaven were paired on a 78, which left A Sailboat in the Moonlight without a partner since Peckin’ stayed in the vault.

So what wound up on the flipside of Sailboat?

Manhattan Jam by Edgar Hayes

A solid, swinging companion.

Bonus Spin: Lombardo’s Original Hit

To round things out, here’s Guy Lombardo’s Victor recording of “A Sailboat in the Moonlight,” with brother Carmen Lombardo — the song’s co‑writer — on the vocal.

Always fun to hear how differently a tune can live depending on who’s steering the boat!

Warehouse Whispers

Irving Mills kept his release options wide open, so these sides appeared on both Variety and Vocalion. And it’s interesting that Johnny’s discs were issued as Johnny Hodges and His Orchestra, in contrast to the more colorful branding of his colleagues: Cootie Williams and His Rug Cutters, Barney Bigard and His Jazzopaters, Rex Stewart and His 52nd Street Stompers. Mills loved a good sub‑label ecosystem — and a wacky band name even more!

Sundays with Duke #24 – Two Lost and Found

As we continue with Duke Ellington in 1938, we land on a pair of songs written and recorded around the same time as I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, yet neither one found the same level of popularity. Both had promising starts, both slipped into obscurity, and both were unexpectedly revived in the 1950s — little musical time capsules waiting to be reopened.

A Cotton Club Companion

The first tune, If You Were in My Place (What Would You Do), was featured in the same Cotton Club Parade as I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart. Duke recorded it for Brunswick with Ivie Anderson on the vocal:

Johnny Hodges also cut the tune at the same small‑group session that produced his version of I Let a Song Go Out of My Heart, again featuring Mary McHugh:

I’d probably give the nod to Johnny’s small‑group take - the slower, steadier tempo feels more natural for the song’s mood.

The tune didn’t really go anywhere, and Duke never returned to it in the studio… except for one curious exception. For reasons lost to time, it resurfaced on the 1956 Blue Rose album on Columbia, with Rosemary Clooney overdubbing her vocal onto a backing track recorded by Duke and the band:

Not a bad song by any means, but this seems to be the end of the trail for it in Duke’s discography.

A Song With Two Names and a Few Lives

The second tune, Lost in Meditation, has a more tangled path.

This collaboration between Juan Tizol and Duke began life as an instrumental titled Have a Heart, recorded by Cootie Williams and his Rug Cutters for Vocalion in January 1938:

The lineup is a dream: Cootie on trumpet, Tricky Sam Nanton on trombone, and a sax section of Johnny Hodges, Barney Bigard, and Harry Carney, with usual suspects Duke, Fred Guy, Billy Taylor and Sonny Greer in the rhythm section.

Pretty cool record!

The following month, Duke and the full band recorded the same tune for Brunswick - slower, more reflective, and now titled Lost in Meditation.

I’m presuming the title change happened when the song acquired lyrics, although the earlier Have a Heart label already lists Louis Singer and Irving Mills as co‑writers. A little mystery there!

Although Duke’s studio version was instrumental, he did feature a vocal arrangement with Ivie Anderson on radio broadcasts, and we’re lucky to have an aircheck:

A proper studio vocal finally arrived in June 1938 at another Johnny Hodges small‑group session, again with Mary McHugh:

The personnel mirrors Cootie’s Rug Cutters lineup, but with Lawrence Brown subbing for Tricky Sam on trombone.

Just as with If You Were in My Place, Duke didn’t revisit Lost in Meditation again until the mid‑1950s, when it was picked up by a guest female vocalist.

This time it was Ella Fitzgerald, who recorded it with Duke and the band in 1957 for her Duke Ellington Songbook album on Verve:

It’s a terrific version, but the song seems to have disappeared from Duke’s repertoire after that.

Why These Two? Why Then?

I do wonder what led to Rosie and Ella reviving these two 1938 songs after they’d been “lost” for more than a decade.

We’ll probably never know - label logic, producer whims, personal taste, or just the right tune at the right moment.

But I’m glad they were found!

What's your take? Should either have become at least a semi-standard?